


Roses

by theresneverenoughwriting



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:40:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21575416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theresneverenoughwriting/pseuds/theresneverenoughwriting
Summary: Virgil had a lot of roses. Like, a lot of them. But in his defence, it was entirely Roman’s fault.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil/Creativity | Roman
Comments: 4
Kudos: 102





	Roses

Virgil had a lot of roses. Like, a lot of them. But in his defence, it was entirely Roman’s fault.

It had started with a bouquet of exactly 15 yellow roses that he found sitting outside his door. For a moment he assumed that there had been some sort of mistake, but then he saw the small card attached to the bound stems. In the most ridiculously exaggerated cursive he had ever seen were the words _“For Virgil”_ , under which was a large, looping R. He had no idea why Roman was leaving him roses, but he really didn’t want to damage their tentative new…friendship? Alliance? In any case, he couldn’t risk offending Princey, not when he and the others could easily cast him out again. Cautiously, he had picked up the flowers and brought them into his room before heading downstairs, determined to not mention his confusion to Roman.

Next came the peach roses. 20 of them, once again placed outside his bedroom door. This time, however, the note was scrawled on a card propped up next to the blooms. _“A sign of my appreciation. Thank you for spurring Thomas to create. R”_. Virgil glanced down the hallway at the prince’s door, a strange, warm feeling settling in his gut. Ever since their conversation in Patton’s room, Roman had begun to be more open with him and Virgil was almost tempted to do the same. Almost. Still, the gesture was appreciated and the anxious side gathered the flowers and placed them on his bedside table next to the yellow ones which were miraculously still alive. Clearly, Roman had done something to them. But he had to admit, seeing the burst of colour every time he entered his room wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

A few weeks passed before Virgil received more roses, but evidently Roman had decided to enhance his presentation because this bouquet wasn’t lying on the floor. No, this bouquet was on the kitchen table, a ribbon tied around the delicate glass vase it was in. At first, Virgil had no reason to think that the 13 bright blue roses were for him until he saw the notecard attached to the ribbon. _“For Virgil, because you are endlessly mysterious. R.”_ The anxious side blinked a few times and glanced around the empty kitchen as if expecting Roman to jump out of a cupboard and explain what the hell that even meant. This, of course, did not happen and Virgil quickly took the roses up to his room before anyone else could see them. Not because he was embarrassed, obviously, but because…they were special. They were for him. Before the first roses, he had never received a gift from anyone. So maybe it was a little selfish, but was it so wrong that he wanted to keep them to himself? He was so busy trying to justify this to himself that he missed the faint sound of Roman asking if Patton or Logan had happened to have moved the vase from the table.

A few days after that, Virgil was presented with more roses. But this time, they were actually handed to him. It had thrown him off wildly when Patton approached with a brilliant smile on his face and held out a bouquet of orange roses. This one was smaller than the others, only 7 blossoms, but beautiful nonetheless. Before the anxious side could ask what was happening, Patton explained that the flowers were from Roman. Baffled, Virgil accepted the offering and watched as the fatherly figure made his way to the kitchen. He stared down at the blooms for a long moment before once again bringing them upstairs to his bedroom. Across the hall, Roman paced in his own room, waiting for a knock that never came.

Virgil nearly fell out of the armchair he was sitting in when a clearly exasperated Logan dropped a gigantic collection of pink roses onto his lap. He would count them later and find out that there were 33 in total, but at the time he had been too stunned to even try. Logan nodded primly at the flower-covered side before stalking out of the room, muttering about how Roman could do his own damn work next time. A bit overwhelmed, Virgil gathered the roses into his arms and sunk into his room, unable to walk there without dropping some. He glanced helplessly at the assortment of seemingly eternal flowers that had taken over his bedside table and gently propped the new ones against it. Yeah, this wasn’t going to work. He began to rearrange some furniture to make room for the newest additions, unaware of the dejected Roman standing outside his door, waiting for him to come up the stairs.

Virgil was a bit unsettled when Deceit approached him in the commons carrying a bunch of roses, but when the exasperated man said that he definitely _hadn’t_ been sent by Roman, how could Virgil even _consider_ such a thing, the anxious side couldn’t help but snicker. The sight of 19 bright white blossoms in the gloved hands of an entirely unamused Deceit was almost too comical to be taken seriously. (Which, ironically, was a complete lie. It was entirely too comical to be taken seriously). With a sarcastic thank-you, Virgil took the flowers. Raising an eyebrow, Deceit rolled his eyes and sank out without another word. Once again Virgil brought the flowers to his room, the brilliance of their white petals an admittedly appealing contrast to the darkness of his typical decorations. Elsewhere, Deceit informed Roman of Virgil’s lacklustre reaction to the gift, and the prince felt a heavy sensation of disappointment settle in his gut. But he squared his shoulders and shoved the feeling aside. It was time to face reality.

* * *

Months passed. Virgil would deny the pang of disappointment he felt when he entered his room and saw the old bouquets decorating nearly every spare surface he had. He would deny the glances that he gave Roman when the prince wasn’t looking. He would deny that he had fallen for the dramatic, extra, _infuriatingly_ charming creative side. No amount of denial, however, could cover up the truth. Each time he saw the roses, still as vibrant and full of life as the day he received them, a hollow ache consumed his insides. In the back of his mind, a voice much bolder than he was used to hearing spoke up. It told him to confront Roman. To finally ask about the roses. What were they for? Why did he give them to him?

Why did he _stop?_

These questions swirled around his head, plaguing his days and, unfortunately, his nights. The darkness of his room as he lay in his bed could not obscure the image of the roses practically engraved behind his eyelids. He knew they were there, all around him. Beautiful symbols of a gesture he did not understand, but that he could not bear to let go of. Sleep evaded the anxious side for days as he ruminated until he couldn’t handle it anymore. His own nervousness about the confrontation was affecting Thomas and by extension the rest of the sides. A feeling of dread swept through the mindscape like a thick fog, filling their lungs and causing their breathing to become shallow, anxiety settling beneath their skin. Virgil watched guiltily as Patton’s smiles grew a little less bright and the worry lines in Logan’s forehead grew a little more pronounced. Roman seemed the most affected of all, withdrawing into his realm for days at a time. The anxious side couldn’t even remember the last time he heard the prince sing. Seeing his family friends like this, Virgil made his decision. He couldn’t keep hurting them just because he was scared of his feelings.

It was time to talk to Roman.

Which, he quickly discovered, was easier said than done. The normally boisterous and excitable man was nowhere to be found. There was no response from his room, the imagination was dark and empty, and the sounds of a Disney movie were absent from the living room. Irritated, Virgil made his way back towards his room. As he approached, a jolt of fear raced down his spine at the sight of his door, wide open. Quickening his steps, he rushed inside to see the very person he had been looking for.

Roman was standing in the middle of the anxious side’s room, a bouquet of 15 pitch black roses locked tightly in his grip. His eyes, however, were travelling around the room in awe, taking in the sight of all the bouquets, lovingly arranged in plain sight. The first one from so many months ago–still a brilliant yellow hue–and the following peach blooms were placed on Virgil’s nightstand, a bright beacon of colour against the purple of his bed. Atop his dresser, a smattering of fiery orange flowers practically glowed against the backdrop of the rich blue petals behind them. And across the room on his desk, pink and white intertwined in a delicate cloud of pale blossoms. The stunned prince turned to face Virgil, his eyes shining with too many emotions to name. Before the anxious side could even begin to explain, Roman took a shaky breath.

“You kept them.” His voice was soft, incredulous, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. Virgil shrugged and glanced away from the prince’s intense gaze, his face flushing with warmth. A flash of colour caught the corner of his eye and when he looked back at Roman, the flowers in his hands had shifted hues. Instead of the inky black that they once were, 9 of the roses had become a majestic royal purple while the other 6 were a vibrant shade of red. Sheepishly, Roman offered the blossoms to Virgil, whose cheeks were nearly as red as the roses. A moment passed before the anxious side reached to accept the bouquet.

For the first time, their fingers brushed as flowers were passed between them. This was a feeling the two of them would become very familiar with, but of course neither of them knew that quite yet. All they knew in that moment was that looking into each other’s eyes was the only thing they wanted to be doing.

Virgil had a lot of roses. Like, a lot of them. But since they came from Roman, he really didn’t mind.

* * *

“So, why roses?”

“Why roses? My love, is there any flower more romantic than a rose? I think not.”

“God, you’re such a sap.”

“Ah, but I’m _your_ sa-Virgil! My hair!”

“What? The grass brings out the colour of your eyes.”

“Your wonderful laugh won’t distract me from the fact that you are truly insufferable.”

“Bold words coming from the man who dragged me out of my room and into a _flower field_ in the middle of the night.”

“I could remove you from the imagination right now if I so chose.”

“Yeah, but you won’t.”

“You’re right, but you shouldn’t say it.”

“Oh my god you dork.”

“…Virgil?”

“Hm?”

“Here, a gift.”

“Another rose, huh. Roman, do you have _any_ chill?”

“Not when it comes to you, _mi amor_.”

“…Well, I guess…just, here.”

“Oh! Virgil, it’s gorgeous!”

“Like you?”

“….”

“You’re lookin’ a little red there, Princey.”

“Oh hush Briar Rose”

“Sleeping Beauty?”

“It suits you.”

“I _wish_ I was sleeping right now.”

“How rude!”

“You know it, babe.”

“…I love you Virgil.”

“Yeah. I love you too, Roman.”

**Author's Note:**

> Rose Bouquet Meanings:  
> 15 Yellow - Requesting forgiveness and friendship  
> 20 Peach - Sincerity and gratitude  
> 13 Blue - Secret admirer, mystery  
> 7 Orange - Infatuation, passion, enthusiasm  
> 33 Pink - Affection, admiration, joy  
> 19 White - “I will wait for you”, peace  
> 15 Black - Forgive me, goodbye  
> 9 Purple + 6 Red - Eternal love, enchantment, “I want to be yours”, romantic love


End file.
